


Never Let Me Go

by insideyourams



Category: Florence + the Machine, Titanic (1997)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insideyourams/pseuds/insideyourams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Florence is a poor singer/songwriter who poses as a man in order to easier obtain jobs. She and her guitarist, Rob, obtain tickets aboard Titanic when they win a bet. Meanwhile, a rich young woman named Isabella is newly married to an arrogant and abusive oil tycoon named Malcolm. Isabella and Florence meet aboard the fated ship and begin a controversial and secretive love affair. This is obviously a work of pure fiction, and I own nothing in regards to Titanic or the two people who are Florence Welch and Isabella Summers. xx</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As Luck Would Have It

**Author's Note:**

> Still working on With or Without You, and I’m not quite happy with where it is, so… here’s a little something else that I’m starting. In order of today being what it is and such. Feedback is, of course, always appreciated. There’s a lot more to come, obviously. Oh, and if you’re thinking, “Oh, no, you didn’t.” The answer is.. Oh, yes, I did. xx

Florence couldn’t believe it. They had won the bet, and the two of them now held tickets for the most coveted voyage of the century. America was the land of opportunity. She and Robert knew that if they stood any chance of making a living with their music, the United States was the best place to do it. 

They had to hurry, as they were running terribly late. They both wore suits, and Florence had her long red hair tucked up into a grey newsboy cap. She had found that posing as a man helped their chances of securing gigs. She would never definitively reveal or announce her gender, but as soon as she sang and released her flowing, fiery locks, it was more than clear. However, by that time, she would have already won the audience over, and her employer could hardly object. In England though, perhaps in part due to the time period, it was mostly frowned upon. Perhaps the U.S. would be more accepting.

Robert led the way, his wooden acoustic guitar in hand. Florence stayed slightly behind, carrying a bag of their shared belongings over her shoulder. She preferred to let Rob handle the ticket exchange since her voice tended to be a giveaway, especially if they were already being scrutinized. 

They made it on board just in time, and Florence hopped onto Rob’s back as they both yelled in excitement, running on deck and toward the rail to wave goodbye. 

“Goodbye!” they yelled, and Florence laughed melodically every once in a while. As the boat was pulling away, she felt particularly daring and threw off her cap, shaking her red hair free. 

“Flo, what’re you doing? You wanna get us caught?” Rob whispered, turning his head to glance up at her, half-grinning in spite of his concern.

“I don’t care!” she yelled, laughing and hugging his neck tighter. “Don’t you know what this means?!”

He laughed in response, one hand still supported under her knee to steady her on his back, the other waving at no one in particular.

“The dog days are over!” she sang, raising a hand in the air, throwing her head back and letting the wind blow her hair wildly.

And with that, the Titanic began its journey across the Atlantic.

~

Isabella and Malcolm entered their stateroom a few moments after boarding. Isabella wished to watch the departure from the deck, but her dark-haired, mustached husband reprimanded her for such a request, with a sharp, “What’s to see?” 

They had been married for two years, and any feelings that were there in the beginning had faded, at least for Isabella. She wasn’t sure what had caused it, whether it be his distaste for her love of the piano, his condescending glare, his roughness and quick temper. Perhaps it was a little bit of everything. 

He was an oil tycoon whose family resided primarily in the United States. He had gone to England for business negotiations where he and Isabella had met. They married, and he extended his stay in the United Kingdom for her sake. But he felt now that it was time to return home so that they could purchase a mansion and truly begin their life together. Isabella’s hands trembled at the thought.

Later that evening, at dinner, her humiliation and frustration grew. He showed her to his friends as though she were a piece of jewelry or property. She was expected to keep silent and look pretty. She knew this would only get worse once they reached the states. How would she ever escape? 

That’s when she decided. She made up her mind when the men retired to the smoking room after dinner. She kissed him goodnight, assuring him she would return to their room to get ready for bed. But that’s when she slipped away, her mind fixed on the arms of the ocean, the crashing waves. She had a plan. It was the only way.


	2. Bird Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence and Isabella meet on the deck of Titanic. Isabella doesn't know Florence's name but she loves her voice...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose to make Flo seem androgynous to Isa because it complicates the story a little. Besides, Flo is trying to seem that way because of the time period. Just wanted to throw that out there! Additionally, I'm changing this to a first-person point of view story alternating between the points of view of Isa and Flo. This chapter is from Isa's POV. xx

I was running. I didn’t know why, I didn’t know where. There was nowhere to go except into the sea, but at this moment, it called to me. It was peaceful in the deep. I was jogging with my long, soft pink dress bunched up in my small hands. My blonde hair had fallen from its bun and was now whipping in the wind as I ran. When I finally reached the back of the ship, I approached the rails and clung to them, panting, tears filling my eyes, threatening to spill over. It was a chilly night, and I shivered in the moonlight. Staring into the ocean, I found myself climbing onto the rail. I was trapped, and I would never break free. This was the only way. “The arms of the ocean are carrying me…” I whispered, talking myself up for what was coming. It would all be over soon. 

But that’s when, somewhere behind me, a voice came floating into my ears. 

“Well, I... didn’t tell anyone... But a bird flew by...” 

I froze. It was a beautiful voice, but the sudden sound was startling. I had been certain I was alone on the deck. I turned my head around slowly, squinting into the dim light.

“...saw what I’d done... he... set up a nest outside..”

I could see the person now. But I was slightly confused. The voice was obviously feminine, but it was coming from someone who appeared to be wearing a man’s suit and cap. I dismissed the thought of it being a girl based on the outfit, reasoning quickly that it must be a teenage boy. I wanted to say something, but the voice left me speechless.

“And sang about what I’d become…”

Whoever it was had spread their long limbs out across a bench and was lounging there, a lit cigarette perched between a pair of pale, slender fingers. The only visible strands of hair peeking from beneath the hat were a fiery red.

“He... sang so loud, sang so clear... I was afraid all the neighbors would hear...” 

I stood as still as I could. I was a bit afraid, having wandered out all alone on the ship. But as the stranger stood, still singing, and began walking slowly towards me, I felt a slow and calming warmth spreading throughout my body. 

“So I invited him in...” The cigarette was tossed into the ocean, over the rail, “…to reason with him…”

The stranger was now mere feet away, and I noticed that he or she was about a foot taller than me. 

“…promised I wouldn’t... do it again...” The last note was held longer, and the two of us were now face to face.

I blinked slowly, mesmerized. My voice was weak and husky when I spoke. “What... What happened next?” 

The stranger laughed a melodic, feminine laugh that echoed around us. A pair of green orbs twinkled in the night. “Well I can’t tell you… unless you come down from there.”

“What? What do you care?”

“You could get hurt—”

“Yes, I know, don’t you think I know that?” My voice was growing louder now, my frustration building. Whoever this guy was, he was becoming a nuisance fast. I sighed in a huff. 

The stranger’s green eyes fell to the ocean for a moment, and he placed his long hands in his trouser pockets.

“What’s your name?” His voice floated into the night like a gentle breeze. It was so unlike Malcolm’s, whose voice cut like a knife, even in whispers. Was he really a boy? Or a girl in disguise? I was still unsure.

“My name is Isabella. But some people call me Bella.”

“Then I’ll call you Isa,” said the stranger, green eyes glowing from under the dark grey hat, a warm smile spreading across the kind face. I felt a sudden release of tension at the expression, and I couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. I focused on the ocean in front of me, and the idea of jumping was becoming less appealing with every passing second. How did I get here? How did it come to this? Why had I been so willing to die moments ago but now found myself longing to live?

Our laughs echoed into the night, seeming to harmonize. There was something about "his" voice that seemed off. It was lovely, but it didn’t sound... masculine. He or she was certainly tall, but the eyes were remarkably soft, and in spite of a sharp jaw line, what I could see of the pale face was hardly handsome, but rather quite… beautiful.

“Why do you want to do this?” The stranger's question caught me by surprise, and I had to pause to gather up a response.

Finally, I mumbled something. “It’s like there’s… no dawn, no day… I’m always in this twilight…”

“In the shadow of your heart…”

Chills rose up my spine, and I turned my head sharply to look at the stranger, our eyes meeting intimately. “How... how did you know?”

“I know that feeling, Isa. But do you know what I’ve come to believe?”

“What?”

“It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

I felt my lips parting slightly as I observed the stranger’s pale face in the moonlight. It looked so soft, so delicate. I longed to reach out and touch it. 

“What’s your name?” I said, suddenly, feeling overwhelmed by my sudden desire to know everything I could about this beautiful creature.

There was that smile again, eyes widening a little, darting around, almost playfully. “I wish to remain nameless… and live without shame.”

The stranger winked then, and my breath caught in my throat. It was becoming more and more evident that I was talking to a girl rather than a boy, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking a question to clarify, seeing as we had just met, and whoever this may person may be, he or she was attempting to prevent me from committing suicide. I made my usual noise of frustration, an exhale somewhere between a quick sigh and stifled groan.

“Why do you make that noise so much? You sound like a machine,” said the stranger, leaning now on the rail, head tilting to get a better look at my face.

I looked over slowly at whoever it was and rolled my eyes, an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Oh, is that so? Well you’re pretty awkward yourself, you move around like a bloody robot.”

The stranger just blinked slowly, proving my point, a smile playing at the corners of his or her lips as well, completely un-phased by the attempted insult.

I bit back a groan, catching myself before I could make any more awkward noises. “Look, what shall I call you if I don’t know your name?” 

“You can call me anything you want.”

“Okay, Robot.”

Robot smirked, adjusting the hat. “Don’t you want to find out how the song ends?”

“What?”

“The bird song.”

“Oh… well, sort of…”

“Well won’t you come down then?” Robot extended his or her hand, and I was so tempted to take it. Finally I swallowed my pride and gave in, grasping it and stepping back down onto the deck.

The firm foundation felt good beneath my feet, and I felt an immense gratitude to whoever this beautiful creature was. I was still a little nervous about this entire situation, but I pushed my anxiety to the back of my mind. 

“Well?” I said, hands going to my hips, looking up at Robot from beneath my lashes. I got a better look at the stranger now, and I almost couldn’t bear to look away from the beauty that radiated from this being. But I feigned disinterest.

“Well… he sang... louder and louder inside the house, but then I couldn’t get him out..”

He or she was clapping now, that beautiful voice flowing into the night air. “So I trapped him under a cardboard box, and stood on it to make him stop...”

The stranger continued the song, breaking into what appeared to be some impromptu dancing in the middle of the whole thing, and by the end of it, I was breathless. 

“You’re… amazing.” I said, and I was sure that I saw a soft blush spreading across the highly defined cheekbones. This wasn’t a boy. It couldn’t be. I reached up to trace the girl’s jaw line, and before she could hold back, I whispered, “You’re a beautiful girl.”

The girl’s face froze, her bottom lip quivering slightly. After a silence that seemed to last an eternity, the robot whispered, “As are you.”

My heart was racing now, and I found myself fingering a fallen strand of long red hair that was peeking out from beneath the robot’s hat. It was so beautiful, so vibrant. As I began moving closer-

“Bella!”

Malcolm’s distant voice sliced through the night, cutting the moment to pieces.


	3. You Left Me in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence tells Rob about the girl she met on deck, and Isabella tries to deal with Malcolm's anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are both written in third-person, and the first half is from Florence's POV, and the second half is from Isa's POV. In this story, I've been changing up the points of view quite a bit, so it might not always be consistent in that respect. But when I do write in first-person, it will most likely be from Isa's POV. Additionally, just know that the second half of this chapter is a bit dark and involves some abuse.

“Thank God! I hate keeping my hair stuffed up in there...” exclaimed Florence, tossing her hat into a corner and shaking her long, red hair free. Rob chuckled, strumming idly on his guitar. 

They were sitting at a table in the third class lounge area in a lower level of the ship. A record played nearby and the air was filled conversations and laughter. 

Florence preferred being below deck because she could be herself. Seeing a woman posing as a man wasn’t too uncommon during this time period, so no one from third class judged her at all. 

Most understood her plight and were willing to help in whatever way they could, casually treating her like a guy whenever they saw her above deck, while jovially accepting her as a woman below deck.

Rob took another gulp of his dark beer and leaned across the table curiously. “So are you trying to tell me that you’ve already broken our number one rule?” His tone was disapproving, but his face was amused.

Florence sighed, running a hand over the back of her hair before fiddling with her bangs. “I didn’t break a rule, Bobby, I just… She was... Fuck, she was trying to kill herself!” Her green eyes were wide now, and she was in a rush, her thoughts all mixing together before she could get them out.

Rob ran a hand across his face, chuckling lightly. “So you’ve already saved a damsel in distress?” 

She thought for a moment, her eyebrows raised, chin jutted out in thought, her eyes dropping to watch her busy fingers as they tapped away on the wooden table. 

“Yes, yes, I suppose I have,” she said then, raising her glass with a shrug, a smile breaking across her face, making her look like a kid in a candy store. And then she emptied her glass of whiskey in a single gulp, slamming it back on the table and sighing hard, satisfied, her lips forming a little “o.” 

“Flo, fucking slow down on that, will you?” said Rob, teasingly, still idly picking out patterns on his acoustic guitar.

Florence laughed, fumbling in her shirt pocket for a cigarette. “Oh, shut up, don’t you want to hear what happened? This girl was amazing—”

“Flo…”

“No, I’m serious!” she exclaimed, pausing only to light up. “She was this little blonde lady, I mean, I don’t know… I think she was a little older than me, but she was tiny! Like the size of a 12-year-old child.” She giggled then, twirling her cigarette between her thin fingers. 

“Are you sure she wasn’t actually a 12-year-old child, Flo? How drunk were you out there?”

“I hadn’t had one drink! She was rich, I think, judging by her outfit and the man that came and got her… I think he must have been her husband.”

“Fuck, Flo! Some rich girl?!” Rob’s guitar was on the floor beside him now, and he had turned around to face Florence completely, one hand buried nervously in his hair, and his other clenched firmly around the remainder of his beer.

“It doesn’t matter, okay?! She needed help, and I helped her, and that’s what matters.” Florence leaned back then, crossing her legs, blowing a cloud of smoke across the table.

“Did she know you were really a girl?” 

“Of course not,” replied Florence instantly, pausing to take a rather long drag on what was left of her cigarette, a guilty blush rising in her cheeks.

Rob raised a suspicious eyebrow. 

“I mean I don’t think so!” she exclaimed, her green eyes bright.

“Did you sing?” 

“I… what does that have to do with anything?” 

“Don’t play dumb, Flo! When you sing, you’re a woman. Everyone knows that. Your voice is your giveaway!”

“I know, okay?! Fuck, I know.” She crushed the end of her cigarette into the table and flicked it away, leaning forward onto her elbows, her hands in her hair. “But Rob… I don’t… I don’t even care. With this girl, I mean… we were out there, and it was like the stars, the moon… they had all been blown out. And when she left, she... she left me in the dark.”

Rob sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Okay, Flo, well put in a song, okay? You can’t let your heart get carried away, especially with a married woman from first class.” He laughed dryly then. 

“Okay,” murmured Florence, dropping her hands from her head and smiling sadly, her eyes drifting to a faraway corner of the room. “I know you’re right.”

He stood then and walked around the table, draping a heavy arm around her. Things like this were hard for her. She fell for people so easily, and Rob knew that. Something inside him already felt guilty for discouraging her. But this was their big chance. Florence lived in the moment; she needed someone to help her think about the long-term. 

They walked back to their quarters then. Florence took the top bunk, and Rob took the bottom.

“Flo?” he whispered, just as they had gotten settled in, the lights out, their roommates in the other set of beds already snoring.

“Yeah, Bobby?” 

“It’s gonna be all right.”

Florence blinked into the darkness, staring idly at her ceiling. All she could see was a short, blonde-haired woman with big blue eyes, and a smile that could light up a room. 

“I know,” she replied, a small smile gracing her lips.

~

“Who was that man?” Malcolm’s voiced echoed through their cabin, and Isabella jumped slightly when she heard it.

She was sitting at her mirror, having just finished taking off her makeup, brushing her hair. “I didn’t get his name. He just sort of came up to me out of nowhere, really.”

Malcolm appeared in the doorway then, shirtless, and crossed his arms. His thick brows came together in a suspicious glare. “Oh, is that so?” 

He approached her then, slowly, and Isabella felt her entire body stiffen involuntarily. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she tried to will away the tears that threatened to fill her eyes. 

“Yes,” she said, plainly, sitting still with her back to him, avoiding his reflection in the mirror.

“Well, I think lower class scum need to leave well enough alone, don’t you?” He leaned over the back of her chair and grasped her right wrist firmly. 

“That hurts,” she whispered. 

“Don’t be a child, Bella. I need you tonight. We haven’t made love in months.”

Isabella’s eyes drifted shut, her lips trembling. “I’m just so tired.” 

He let go of her roughly, turning his back on her, his heavy footsteps making their way to the bed. He sat down on it then, still glaring at her. 

“That’s always it, isn’t it? Well you didn’t seem very tired on deck earlier. You seemed to be getting pretty cozy with that bastard, actually…”

“That’s not true—” 

But before she could finish, she heard a slam and jumped. She should have known this was coming. Her stack of books on the desk by the bed had been hurled into the floor, and Malcolm was on his feet again.

“That’s not good enough, Bella! Your word isn’t good enough anymore. You’re going to have to prove it,” he hissed into her ear, grabbing her shoulders from behind in his iron grip. He then grasped her uppers arms and pulled her from her chair, spinning her around so that she faced him, but her eyes were clenched shut. 

“Look at me!” He yelled then, and her eyes shot open, and she stared at his face, blankly. He inched closer so that their faces were inches apart. “Prove it,” he whispered.

She felt her soul sinking into its hiding place, as she knew what was to come next. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. She leaned forward slightly, pressing her lips lightly to his. 

But that’s all it took. He took over from there. The rest of the night, for Isabella, was empty. He did the rest. She didn’t move; he moved her. She was just a puppet in his game. It was dark, and he didn’t notice her tears. But they fell heavily from her eyes. In his selfish cloud of lust and heavy breathing, he deciphered her sobs as aroused gasps and sighs. When it was over, he rolled over and was asleep in a matter of moments. She lay there, violated, her heart in pieces. 

She cried herself to sleep that night, hoping that if she clenched her eyes shut tight enough, she could see a tall, slender redhead with a tender voice and delicate hands.


	4. Shy Glances, Coy Restraints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella goes back to find the mysterious girl who saved her life.

 

Isabella’s heart was racing. After what she went through last night, she couldn’t imagine why she was putting herself through this. If Malcolm caught her _this_ time, she probably wouldn’t be allowed out of their state room for the rest of the voyage. But she couldn’t help it; she had to find this girl and thank her. If she didn’t see her again, she would go insane.

 

She wandered over to the back of the ship, the very place where she had last seen Robot. The day was bright, the sun shining over the wood of the deck, the footsteps of children running, laughing, a gentle breeze blowing the hair of a few women talking near the railing. They stopped when she passed, eyeing her fancy dress. But just when she thought they would scowl and walk away, they smiled gently and returned to their conversation.

  
Her eyes reached a pair of men sitting on a bench near the very back of the ship. One was brown-haired, playing a guitar, and just as Isabella saw the pale skin and red hair peeking out from the under the cap of the guitarist’s companion…

  
“My boy builds coffins, he makes them all day... and it’s not just for work, and it isn’t for play…”  
 

Isabella froze, her lips parting softly. The girl’s voice was so enchanting, and Isabella felt as though she could faint. Just then, the guitarist glanced up, still playing, and locked eyes with Isabella. He stopped playing abruptly and nudged the redhead, who froze as well, and looked up. Green eyes met blue, and Isa felt herself slowly moving backwards. But that’s when Robot jumped to her feet, jogging towards her, and Isabella stopped again, self-consciously aware of their height difference as the beautiful girl approached her.

 

“Isa… Isa Machine,” said Robot, her lips stretching into a shy smile. Her grey-white shirt was visible beneath the brown of her jacket. She reached up and tentatively fingered her cap.

 

Isabella’s mouth had gone dry, but she couldn’t help returning the Robot’s smile, chuckling at the nickname. She looked at her feet now, a blush rising in her cheeks. _Why am I here?_   she thought.

 

As if reading her thoughts, Robot asked, “What brings you back here?” Her voice was like music.

 

Isabella straightened then, meeting Robot’s melancholy eyes and shy grin. “I just wanted to thank you… I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there…” But then she trailed off, her eyes dropping to her feet.

 

The girl came closer then, making Isabella’s hands tremble. She dropped her head, her eyes softening, whispering, “I think I know what would have happened… I’m very glad I was there.”

 

Isabella looked up then and felt like she was drowning in a sea of green. She felt a hand take her own, and her heart skipped a beat. Robot was smiling again. “Come on, I want you to meet Rob!”

 

Before Isabella could protest, she was being pulled over to the bench where the brown-haired man sat. He was squinting up at them as they approached, and his thin mouth smiled as they reached him.

 

“Rob, this is Isa! Isa, Rob!”

 

“Hello,” said Isabella, quietly.

 

“Nice to meet you,” said Rob, glancing at Robot, chuckling lightly. He stood then, carrying his guitar by its neck. “See you later, Flo. I’m going to go take a nap below deck for a while, I think,” he said, and Isabella caught him wink at Robot, whose naturally pale cheeks were suddenly flooded with pink. Isabella bit back a grin.

 

“Flo? What’s that short for?” chimed Isabella, taking a seat on the bench next to Flo, who had picked up a pad of paper and a pencil from the floor beside them.

 

“Oh, I don’t know…” whispered Flo, smiling that shy smile again. She was writing now, and Isabella saw that she had quite a bit already written on the yellowing piece of paper. She leaned forward to get a better look. They looked like lyrics.

 

“You _write_ songs as well?” murmured Isabella, reaching over to straighten a corner of the paper that had begun to curl. Flo nodded slightly, biting her lip and pausing. She sat her pencil in her lap and began chewing on the nail of her index finger.

Flo’s eyes were often downcast, Isabella noticed. It tugged at her heart. Isabella cleared her throat, trying to muster up some courage, before saying, finally, “Can I see?”

 

The corner of Flo’s lip curled upward, and she turned her head to glance up at Isabella from under long lashes. “Sure,” she consented, handing off the notebook.

 

_And in the dark, I can hear your heart beat,_

_I tried to find the sound._

_But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness._

__So darkness I became._ _

 

Isabella could feel the butterflies forming in her stomach as she read the words, and she couldn’t stop the smile that found its way, once again, to her lips.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she said, setting the lyrics back on Flo’s lap. The redhead passed a palm over the paper then, seeming to savor the feel of it. Isabella could just make out her reply of “thank you.”

 

There was a question weighing on Isabella, and she wondered if she could bring herself to ask it. She traced the girl’s jaw line with her eyes, took in the subtle bump on her long nose, the elegant fullness of her lower lip, the long strands of red that had escaped from her hat, the inevitable look of sadness in her round eyes.

 

“You and Rob…” blurted Isabella then, the phrase sticking in her throat. They were making eye contact now, the sudden words bringing Flo to attention. Isabella felt awkward now, her lips mouthing wordlessly, her hand darting up to playing with a strand of blonde hair. “Erm... I just meant... Well are you two... t-t-together?” Her cheeks felt warm, and she wished she could crawl underneath the bench.

 

But Flo’s face had softened, and she blinked slowly, trying not to smile. “He’s just my friend. He plays guitar for me, and I sing. We’re going to America together so we can perform. That’s all.”

 

Isabella felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and the feeling made her light-headed. She laughed then, looking over Flo’s shoulder, out into the waves of the ocean. “I see…” she said. She could still feel Flo’s eyes on her.

 

“The man from last night, the one who came and got you… Is that your husband?”

 

Flo’s words felt heavy, and Isabella glanced back to see that the redhead’s green orbs had dropped to gaze at her ring.

 

“Erm… well, yes, actually. He is.” The words hung in the air like rain clouds, and the silence that followed was thick.

 

Flo blinked, smiling sadly, leaning back, straightening her cap. Her arm found its way to the  back of the bench, and she turned around to face Isabella fully. Isabella couldn’t look away.

 

“He seemed angry,” said Flo then, her green eyes darkening slightly, worried. “I’m surprised you came back.”

 

“Well, I… I had to.” Isabella was playing with her hands now, Flo’s gaze suddenly too piercing, too knowing. After a long pause, she finally looked back up, adding, “I had to see you again.”

 

Flo blinked again, and Isabella found it impossible to read her expression. She reached up suddenly and brushed a strand of blonde hair back from Isabella’s shoulder. “Are you happy together?”

 

The question caught Isabella off guard, and her jaw dropped slightly. “Excuse me?”

 

“Are you happy together?” Flo repeated, reaching up to scratch her forehead, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.

 

“Well… y-yes. I mean—”

 

“I just didn’t care for the way he spoke to you. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

 

Isabella’s heart was racing again. This girl was really something. “I… I’m just fine. Really.”

 

Flo stared at her for a long time then. Isabella felt her eyes moving over her face. Then she said, finally, “Okay,” that sad smile appearing again.

 

“Isabella! Ah, yes, there you are!” Isabella jumped to her feet, spinning around. It was a woman’s voice, and she could see her approaching from several yards away. It was a couple from the upper class. She recognized them from the dinner the night before. They were a friendly man and woman, and Isabella found it hard to believe they were acquaintances of Malcolm’s.

 

“I think Malcolm was looking for you because dinner is in a couple of hours,” said the woman, approaching Isabella and Flo, a kind smile spreading across her face, her slightly short, blonde-brown hair blowing in the wind. Her husband trailed behind her, a husky man with dark blonde hair and a slight beard who also sported a kind smile.

 

“Of course! I was just speaking with… a friend of mine,” Isabella said, awkwardly, not knowing whether or not to reveal that Flo was a girl. “Well I’ll just be getting back to him then. Goodbye…” she said, looking back at Flo over her shoulder as she left, whose green-eyed gaze seemed to take refuge in her mind for the rest of the evening.

 

 


	5. Something's Got a Hold on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairead takes Florence under her wing, and Isabella sees a familiar face at dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll probably notice that I made Malcolm's last name, and therefore Isabella's married name, "Winters." As the story continues, it will become evident as to why I did this.

 

 

Florence stumbled backwards, awkwardly fiddling with her pen and paper. Isabella had gone, but the upper class couple was lingering, and it made Florence nervous.

 

“Hang on… I’ve heard you sing before.”

 

Florence had her back to the pair, but the woman’s voice made her freeze. She glanced back over her shoulder, her face blank. “I’m sorry?”

 

The woman’s kind smile calmed Florence, in spite of herself. “Well Christopher and I have taken a lot of walks around the ship, and I’m sure you’re the one I’ve heard singing before.”

 

Florence turned to face them, her mouth falling open softly. She didn’t know how to respond. She remembered what Rob had said about her voice being a giveaway. What did these people want? Why did they want to press her about this? But they seemed so nice.

 

Seeming to sense her unease, the woman stepped forward then, placing a warm hand on Florence’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I know it’s hard for a woman singer lately. Your secret is safe with me,” she smiled again, and Florence relaxed.

 

“I’m sorry, I should introduce myself. My name is Mairead, and this is my husband Christopher.” Christopher smiled and nodded.

“I’m Florence. It’s very nice to meet you,” said Florence, timidly, grinning slightly at last.

“And you, dear. You have quite a talent, from what I’ve heard. Chris and I are in the music industry. I must say, you seem to have the sound I might be looking for.”

 

Florence’s jumped into her throat, her eyes widening. She couldn’t hide the wide smile that now graced her face. “Oh my God, that’s amazing,” she said, excitedly, her eyes darting back and forth between the two strangers.

 

“I would love to talk with you about it further. I saw a man playing guitar with you. Is he your accompaniment?”

 

“Yes! That’s Rob!”

 

“Excellent. Well…” Mairead turned then and looked at Christopher before turning back to Florence. “I think you two should join us for dinner tonight.”

 

Florence’s mouth was suddenly dry again, her heart beating fast. “Erm… Join you? But… in first class?” Florence couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, nervously playing with her hands.

 

Mairead draped a comforting arm around the redhead and began walking with her. “Darling, I feel like I have something you could wear. Why we don’t get Rob? I’ll take you two to my state room?”

 

Florence consented, and the three new friends made their way below deck.

 

~

 

“Do pick up your dress, Bella, darling. I paid a good deal for that,” snapped Malcolm, and Isabella self-consciously grasped the corner of her train as they descended the large stair case into the open area in front of the dining room. He always seemed to buy her dresses too long, overestimating her height. Her gown was silky maroon, dotted with sparkling sequins, her blonde hair pulled back into a bun. She was nervous enough in these situations. Malcolm would lead her around like she was his dog at a show. She was expected to keep silent unless addressed directly, and such an occasion was rare.

 

There was a beautiful dome of glass in the ceiling, white light shining down from it, illuminating the wood of the staircase, and as Isabella and Malcolm reached the floor, echoes of laughter and conversation could be heard, the faint sound of violins playing cheerily in the background.

 

Isabella’s arm was interlocked with Malcolm’s. It was a ritual, a habit. This is how they presented themselves, and she smiled, not out of happiness, but out of obligation.

 

“Ah, Beatrice, so nice to see you again,” gushed Malcolm, bowing slightly and kissing the hand of an older widow who came from one of the wealthiest families in Britain.

 

“Oh, Mr. Winters, you’re too much… Looking lovely, Isabella,” she chattered, nodding gracefully. Isabella smiled in reply and murmured her thanks.

 

There were so many people standing in the entry way, talking, smoking, exchanging anecdotes. Isabella felt her eyes glazing over, her mind drifting away. But then, the familiar voice of Mairead found its way to her ears.

 

“Malcolm! Isabella!”

 

Malcolm wheeled around rather quickly, dragging Isabella with him, as their arms were still linked. She almost stumbled on her dress, but she recovered and looked up to see Mairead and Chris coming towards them with warm smiles.

 

She returned the courtesy, but as her eyes wandered, she caught sight of a couple coming down the stairs behind them. There was a brown-haired man accompanying a woman with ivory skin and long red hair…

 

Isabella’s heart skipped a beat.

 

“Malcolm, Isabella, I would like you to meet two friends of ours. This is Robert Ackroyd and Florence Welch.”

 

 _Florence…_ The name reverberated in Isabella’s ears.

 

Florence was dressed in a long, dark blue gown, a slightly sheer shawl of the same color draped around her shoulders. Isabella couldn’t tell if it was the lighting or the absence of the hat, but Florence’s face was finally completely visible, thin and angular, sharp around the jaw, but remarkably soft at the same time, framed perfectly by silky red locks.

 

She was smiling shyly, her green eyes glancing from person to person before falling to the floor, a little smile disappearing from and reappearing on her lips from moment to moment. Isabella was mesmerized.

 

“Well any friend of Christopher and Mairead is certainly a friend of ours,” said Malcolm, bearing a set of white teeth in his practiced grin, “Isn’t that right, Bella?”

 

Isabella realized suddenly that it was her turn to speak, and she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Florence’s eyes then found hers, green meeting blue, and she felt the breath escape her lips in a little sigh. Finally, she found her voice, muttering, breathlessly, “Certainly.”

 

 


	6. Between Two Lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella finds herself following Florence to a party below deck after dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would strongly recommend listening to "Between Two Lungs" while reading the second half of this chapter. I hope you like it. I enjoyed writing it. xx

They had been exchanging glances all night. Isa was so distracted. The flash of red hair across the room, the musical laugh. They weren’t at the same table. They were nowhere close to each other, but she felt as though an invisible string was connecting both of their hearts, and she knew it wasn’t her imagination because whenever she found herself looking in Florence’s direction, their eyes would catch. Then they would hold the gaze for a moment, and she felt like it was just the two of them in the middle of the ocean, swimming together with no one else to distract them.

“Bella, you’ve hardly touched your dinner,” scoffed Malcolm, suddenly, taking a sip of his wine. Isabella felt the heat rise in her face. Several faces at their table had turned to eye her plate.

“I’m just not very hungry. I don’t feel very well,” she said in a small voice, her eyes downcast.

“You seem distracted,” he said, his voice lowering. She could feel his eyes burning into her skin.

“I’m not. I’m just tired.” She met his gaze now and held it, trying to convince him. He exhaled sharply through his nose then, rolling his eyes, turning back to an ongoing conversation between the men at the table concerning England’s relations with America.

After about fifteen more minutes, the men of the dining room were beginning to retreat to the drawing rooms, to drink and smoke and continue their “manly” discussions there. Isabella chuckled slightly at the thought, annoyed, weary. She drank the remaining ounce of water in her glass.

Malcolm told her goodbye, and she was left with a few other women at the table. Across the way, she could see Florence, still seated. Mairead and Chris were retiring, she could see them saying farewell. Her heartbeat quickened slightly as she saw Florence turn her head, making eye contact with her once again.

Florence and Rob were standing, and Isabella found herself mimicking their actions without even realizing what possessed her to do so. Rob went ahead of Florence, exiting the dining room. Isabella was on her way to the door as well when she realized that Florence was gliding towards her, her blue dress seeming to dance around her. Isabella hesitated as Florence approached her, a smirk appearing on the redhead’s pale face. She gave the blonde a meaningful stare, mouthing the words, “Follow me,” nodding her head in the direction of the door. Isabella’s heart fluttered as Florence walked away then, and without a second thought, she did as she was told.

~

“So… Florence…” said Isa, smirking. Florence found herself blushing suddenly.

“Yes, that’s my name, Isabella,” Florence replied. It was Isa’s turn to blush then.

“I’m not supposed to be here.” The words were escaping Isa’s lips before she could stop herself.

“What?” said Florence, loudly, leaning closer, making Isa’s spine tingle.

“I’m not supposed to be here!” shouted Isa then, laughing in spite of herself.

They were below deck, a fairly lively party going on in the lower class lounge area. Rob was playing the guitar, and several people were banging on tables and walls, making their own drumbeats.

Florence laughed then too, taking a long drink from a mug of dark beer. She pushed some of her red hair away from her face, tugging at the top buttons of her shirt. She had traded her dress for a shirt and trousers once again. She was so elegant even when she was dressed so casually. Isabella was mesmerized.

“Come on, why are you so worried about it?” said Florence then, stroking Isa’s arm.

“Malcolm wouldn’t want me here…” said Isa then, her eyes unfocused, staring off somewhere into the back of the room.

“Isabella,” said Florence then, moving closer, taking the blonde by both shoulders.

She’s so tall… thought Isa, feeling slightly delirious, breathless. The smell of her breath, her skin, was intoxicating.

She leaned closer to Isa’s face as she said, quietly, just so Isa could hear, “It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.” The redhead’s green eyes were like lights, and they were guiding Isabella home. She felt herself letting go of all her inhibitions. She was at Florence’s mercy. “So shake him off.” A mischievous grin spread across Florence’s face then, and Isabella couldn’t help but mirror it.

“Let your hair down!” she shouted then, intermittently laughing, tugging at the bun on the back of Isabella’s head. “Let it down! Shake it out!”

Isabella felt giddy, high, drunk on her emotions, and if Florence had told her to leap off a cliff in this moment, she would have. She pulled her hair free and shook her head wildly, jumping up and down, raising her arms, her long blonde hair cascading down her back. Florence came closer again, reaching around behind her, running fingers through her locks, causing Isabella’s breath to catch again.

“Isabella, when’s the last time you screamed?” chimed Florence then. Isa shook her head, shrugging, bewildered.

“It feels so good!” said Florence. She let out a scream then, and the talking and laughter that filled the room paused for a moment before restarting with some a chorus of laughter. “Do it!” urged Florence, her smile so childlike, her green eyes so close to Isa’s blue eyes, her lips so near, her long hands clutching Isa’s forearms. She never wanted her to let go.

Isabella felt only a slight hint of embarrassment a few seconds before she did it. But when she finally did let out her own scream, she felt so liberated, so free. A brief silence filled the room then, and she realized with a surge of pride that her scream had been longer, almost louder than Florence’s. Then the room erupted in applause and a few cheers, and Isa turned, giggling, and curtsied, grasping the train of her dress in one of her small hands.

She turned back to Florence then who enveloped her in a swaying embrace. “See! I told you. It’s good for you. It’s all about your lungs. They’re your source of life.” Florence pulled back then, placing a hand on Isa’s chest, over her dress, right between her breasts. Florence seemed to catch herself then, pausing, her eyes fixed on where her fingers still lingered. Isabella’s breathing was ragged, irregular, and she bit her lip, her hand slowly drifting up to cover Florence’s, holding it there. Florence’s eyes darted upward then, and they held each other’s gaze for what seemed like an eternity.

Florence smiled.

“Rob! Rob, play something special for me, will you?” she said suddenly, her head turning, moving over quickly to whisper something in Rob’s ear. Isa felt suddenly cold without Florence’s touch, but she quickly recovered when Florence turned back to her, grasping her hand, pulling her in the direction of a large, wooden platform that stood in the middle of the room, resembling a stage or a dance floor.

“Florence, what?”

“Come on!”

“Why, what are you—”

“Just come up here with me!”

And before Isabella could protest anymore, Florence was lifting her up onto the platform, climbing on after her. Rob was implementing an interesting drum pattern like none Isabella had ever heard before. The room had otherwise quieted, and Isabella felt like all eyes were on them. Isabella realized suddenly, as Florence’s hands found hers, her eyes so soft and loving, that a song was coming.

Florence was vocalizing then, and Isabella felt like she was floating in another dimension. Florence’s voice was like magic. Everything about it was so freeing, so ethereal. She was entranced. That’s when the words began.

“Between two lungs… It was released… The breath… that carried me…” She gave Isa’s hands a squeeze, and Isa couldn’t hide her smile. “The sigh… that blew… me forward…” She leaned forward then, her face mere inches from Isa’s, as if to emphasize the word. Their foreheads almost touched. “‘Cause it was trapped…” She threw her head back, stepping backwards slightly, letting the note ring, “…trapped between two lungs… it was… trapped between two lungs…”

Isabella felt so intoxicated. She could listen to this woman forever, this song. Florence was so full of life, so filled with the vibrancy that Isabella herself craved.

“And my running feet… could fly… each breath screaming… ‘We are all too young to die.’” Florence had pulled Isa close now, their foreheads touching finally, her hands on Isa’s shoulders.

But then she bit her lip, smiling, letting go, moving away, clapping in time with the beat, jumping around, dancing. Isa smiled then and clapped with her, as did most of the entire crowd that was now watching and dancing along on the floor below.

“Between two lungs, it was released, the breath that passed from you to me… that flew between us as we slept, and slipped from your mouth into mine, it crept…” She would motion from Isa back to herself whenever singing about the breath, and it made Isa’s heart race. She hadn’t felt joy like this in a very long time.

Florence continued with the chorus, moving slowly toward Isa again as she did so, placing her hand over Isa’s heart once more, between her lungs. They might as well have been in the clouds, alone, soaring above everyone else. Neither one of them could stop smiling.

“Gone are the days of begging, the days of theft… No more gasping for a breath… The air has filled me head to toe… and I can see the ground far below…” Florence’s voice was urgent now, the words coming quicker, and Isabella felt as though they described her feelings perfectly at this moment. “I have this breath, and I hold it tight… and I keep it in my chest with all my might…” She had pulled Isa’s hand to her own chest now, placing it over her own heart as she sang. “I pray to God this breath will last as it pushes past my lips as I... ” Her head lulled back slightly as she sang, “Gasp…” She locked their hands out in front of them and began spinning them, still singing the note, vocalizing intermittently. They were spinning, holding onto one another for their lives. Florence was so playful, so childlike. She loved being sporadic, and Isabella couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

When they finally stopped, Florence moved away, still spinning slightly until the beat stopped, the song finally coming to a close.

The room erupted in applause then, and Florence giggled like a little girl, bowing slightly, turning back to Isabella, taking her hand. Isa’s smile was so wide, and tears were stinging her eyes. She was in awe.

“I’ve never felt so alive…” whispered Isabella, clinging to Florence after they had stepped off the platform, moving to a quieter corner of the room. Her hands clasped the redhead’s shoulders firmly.

Florence leaned forward, her breaths escaping in little pants. She reached up and cupped the blonde’s face, her shaky lips finally finding the words, “Neither have I. You’re such a… a ray of sunshine in my life.”

Isabella laughed then, a few tears escaping her eyes, falling down her cheeks. Florence’s thumbs quickly caught them.

Florence’s eyes were shining, and Isabella knew she was close to crying as well. Florence laughed then too, and before either of them had time to change their minds, they both moved forward gently, their lips meeting in a kiss.


	7. A Revelation in the Light of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella finds out that Malcolm had his assistant follow her, and he forbids her to see Florence again. But Florence finds her on deck, and Isabella has to decide what to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's some dispute over what color Isa's eyes are, but I've always felt like they were blue mostly, so for all intents and purposes, this story is going to say that they are. Just wanted to throw that out there. Hope you enjoy. xx

 

Isabella returned to her stateroom, a smile dancing on her lips, a song lingering in her heart. The stateroom was sectioned into a lounge, a study, a bathroom, and a bedroom. It was late, and Isabella had assumed that Malcolm was asleep in the bedroom, as darkness enveloped the lounge. She turned to shut the door when she heard his voice.

 

“Where have you been?”

 

The words cut through the room, and Isabella felt her hands tremble on the door knob.

 

“I was taking a walk.”

 

She turned around to face him then, seeing a light switch on beside him. As he stood and approached her, she felt her back against the door, fearfully aware that she had nowhere to run.

 

“No need to lie, Bella.” He smiled then, and she felt the color drain from her face. “I had Winston tag along from a distance on your little adventure…” He was inches from her now, his rough hands pawing at her hair. She felt sick. “Your little… excursion below deck…” The words were getting swallowed behind his clenched teeth.

 

“Malcolm, I--” But he slapped his hand over her mouth before she could continue, pushing her harder against the door.

 

“I know you were with that woman. That redhead. The same redhead from before. And I know what you did. With _her_.” His words were like needles, and  Isabella was trembling from head to toe, tears building in her eyes.

 

Finally, he released her, stepping away. But then he sneered at her, laughing bitterly, approaching her again with excruciatingly slowness. She anticipated the sting of a slap, but he dropped his hand just as quickly as he had raised it. “No...” he whispered, gritting his teeth, “You’re not worth it.”

 

He turned on his heel and seized a vase, hurling it at the wall where it smashed instantly into a thousand pieces. Isabella flinched at the sound. His fiery eyes found hers again, and he yelled, “WHY?! Why, Bella?! _My_ wife and some _woman_! I don’t know which is worse, your infidelity or the fact that it’s with a- with a- _female_! Some _bitch_!”

 

Then he flew towards her, and this time a blow came. She wasn’t prepared, however, and fell hard to the ground, biting back a sob, eyes clenched shut. He loomed over her, seizing her forearms in his iron grip. He shook her roughly, booming, “Look at me!”

 

Isabella blinked through tears to do as she was told, fearing another blow, furious but too weary to retaliate. “Isabella, you are _mine_ , and I will _not_ lose you to some low-class _whore_. Do you understand me? _Do you_?!”

 

She nodded blindly, clenching her eyes shut, shaking uncontrollably.

 

“You can sleep in _here_ for the rest of our stay,” he growled, nodding toward the couch. “Maybe by the time we reach America I’ll have figured out what to _do_ with you.”

 

With that, he released her and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Isabella lay on the carpet, her eyes drifting open, staring blankly at the room through a blur of shock and worry. She imagined Florence’s long, pale arms encircling her, warming her, protecting her. But Isabella wondered now if she would ever feel such an embrace again.

 

~

 

“Now here are the lifeboats…”

“Ah, yes! Silly to have them here, like they’re on display. This is the unsinkable ship!”

“Just a precaution, of course. No need to worry.”

“Are there enough for everyone?”

“No need really, my dear, but there are enough so that you can feel safe, I assure you.”

 

Isabella was tagging along on a tour of the ship, and the constant chatter of the gentleman guiding them as he spoke with the other ladies from the upper class was driving her mad. She hadn’t said a word. She was too lost in her own thoughts.

 

She felt like she was drowning. She pulled at the sleeve of her dress, trudging along behind the rest of the group. She was constantly checking over her shoulder, wondering if Winston was lurking anywhere nearby. She felt like she was being watched at all times now. But she was fairly certain he was behind with the other men who had returned to the smoking room after lunch. She had told Malcolm her plans to go on the tour. They had been awkwardly keeping up appearances in public since their dispute, and she was having to play the part of “happy wife” even more convincingly than usual. Her stomach turned at the thought.

 

They were walking past a storage room when she felt a hand at her shoulder. For a split second, her heart stopped. But when she turned slightly, she saw that the hand was long, pale, feminine, familiar. Her eyes softened, and she followed the redhead, who was tugging her toward the door of the room, and they ducked into it.

 

“Flo, what are you doing?” said Isabella, hesitantly, leaning against a wall as Florence shut the door behind them.

 

Florence turned to her then, approaching her, her smile fading at the blonde's tone. “Isa, I… I just wanted to see you again.”

 

“I can’t see you anymore.”

 

Florence’s face fell, and Isabella was almost sure that she could feel her heart crumbling.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“Well there isn’t much else I can say. I’ve come to realize that I behaved badly before. I shouldn’t have let you believe that I was… like you. I’m married to a man, and I’m happy, and I’m afraid I can’t see you anymore.” She was struggling to keep her voice even, and Florence’s bottom lip was trembling slightly.

 

Isabella’s bright blue eyes stared into Florence’s green ones, but Florence couldn’t see any light in them. They had been dimmed by something, and she feared they would eventually burn out completely. “No light…no light.” Florence mumbled, her voice dripping with sorrow.

 

“What?”

 

“Nevermind… Listen, Isa, do… do you love him?”

 

“I do… I love him.” She responded, straightening her back in order to appear taller. This was, of course, in vain, as Florence still towered over her.

 

Florence leaned down toward Isabella, their faces mere inches apart. “I’m not calling you a liar, just… just don’t lie to me,” said Florence, defiantly, her gaze steady and piercing.

 

Isabella fidgeted, shifting her weight between her feet. _How does she read me so well?_ She thought. “I think I loved him when I married him… Really. I just... he was so cruel, and... something changed. I don’t know…” Isabella trailed off, her large eyes darting in various directions, nervously.

 

“You can’t choose what stays and what fades away,” Florence whispered, cupping the blonde’s cheek gently, brushing away a falling tear with her thumb.

“But it doesn't matter. I can't see you anymore. Flo, I can’t do this--"

 

“No, please, I… I’d do anything to make you stay.” Florence’s voice sounded so desperate now, and Isabella didn’t know how much longer she could handle this.

 

She stared into Florence’s round, green orbs for the longest time. There was a landscape of emotions within them. Acres of longing, mountains of tenderness... She couldn’t walk away. The frustration, the anxiety was building. And the only solution was to stand and fight.

 

“Tell me what you want me to say.” Isabella’s voice was small, her eyes brimming with tears.

 

Florence thought for a long time, their gazes whispering to each other in the silence. She opened her mouth but then shut it again. She couldn’t do this. Not now. But she had to. There was something she needed to hear. “Isa, say… say my name.”

 

There was a moment of pause as Isabella’s eyes searched Florence’s face, roamed every inch, confused. “Florence…” she said, the word lingering between them in the open air.

 

In that moment, a ray of sunlight broke through the window behind them and the room was suddenly bathed in light, every detail of every object illuminated. It was a beautiful sight, and Florence felt her breath hitch in her throat.

 

“Th-thank you,” said Florence, tears filling her eyes in spite of her previous restraint. “It just sounds so… beautiful when you say it.” She swallowed hard, clearing her throat, her eyes searching the room frantically, words suddenly spilling out as she remembered that her time was now limited.

 

“Let me just say this. I… I _love_ you. And… I would give all this and heaven too if only for a moment I… I could just understand the meaning of the word, you see... ‘Cause I’ve been scrawling it forever, but it never made sense to me at all.” Florence laughed then, mingled with a stifled sob, and Isabella reached out and stroked her cheek before she could stop herself.

 

“Flo…”

 

“No, wait, I… I need to say this. Just… just stay strong. Keep your strength, keep that light inside. Keep it up… I know you can.” She leaned forward, taking Isabella’s face in her hands and, in one swift move, planting a firm kiss on her forehead. “Just keep following the heartlines on your hand.” She reached down and clutched her companion’s hand, turning it over, tracing the lines on Isabella’s palm. “’Cause I am...” she whispered then.

 

The blonde nodded, and Flo could make out the tears filling her eyes. But before she could attempt to comfort her, Isabella withdrew her hand, pulling away from Florence’s touch. The action stung the redhead to the core.

 

“Goodbye,” Isabella choked, turning sharply and slipping through a hidden door, leaving the room in a rush. The room darkened, and Florence looked out the window to see that the sun had once again been obscured by a big, grey cloud.


	8. So I Stayed in the Darkness With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella realizes her heart's true desire.

Her long arms were draped over the creamy white rails of the ship, her red hair fluttering around her face. She was the only one on the deck, as the sun was on the verge of setting, almost all passengers, regardless of class, eating dinner in one place or another. But she wasn’t. Rob had tried to pull her away almost an hour ago, but she clung strong, begging to be left alone to watch the waves.

She couldn’t take her eyes off them, crash after crash against the front of the ship as it plowed forward. “The crashes are heaven…”she thought. She smiled sadly, brushing away a tear as it began to roll down her nose.

“Florence?”

She straightened suddenly, her jaw falling open. She didn’t turn around just yet. She didn’t trust her ears. It couldn’t be… Could it?

“Isa?” she gasped, spinning around slowly, one of her thin white hands still stubbornly gripping the rail. The blonde smiled then, approaching slowly, clutching a lacy shawl which was draped around her shoulders. “I thought you said—”

“Forget I ever said it,” Isa interrupted, pink rising in her cheeks, “I can’t stay away. I need you.”

Flo came closer then, tentatively approaching, her steps light. The closer she came, the more Isa blushed, biting her lip before speaking suddenly, quickly, “You see, I was walking around the ship, but I didn’t know where to find you, but then I ran into Rob, and he said you’d be—”

But Florence silenced her with her lips. She felt Isa sigh against her, but Flo kept the kiss gentle, feather-light. Even still, when she pulled away after a few seconds, Isa was breathless. Florence’s long fingers were smoothing over Isa’s long blonde hair before coming to rest on either side of her face, caressing her cheeks with her thumbs.

Florence bit her lip then, a smile appearing. “Come here…” She took Isa’s hand then, leading her to the rail. The ship was pushing forward, carving its path through the ocean, and Isa shivered in the crisp, evening breeze.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” Isa laughed slightly, not understanding, but Florence put her hands on her shoulders, squeezing them slightly. Isa’s breath caught in her throat. 

 

“Do you trust me?” whispered the redhead.

“Of course I do.” The words streamed from the blonde’s mouth in a rush, and she closed her eyes tentatively, her face relaxing, the wheels of her brain spinning frantically.

Florence bit back a grin, taking both of Isa’s small hands and leading her to the white rail at the very front of the ship. She positioned her companion in front of her and then moved Isa’s fingers so that they were clasping the rail in front of her.

“I want you to step up onto the rail in front of you.”

“What?”

“Trust me. I’ve got you.”

Isa chuckled nervously again, biting her lip this time, but she did as she was told.

She gasped slightly when she felt Flo take both her hands off the rail, lifting them up slightly and stretching them out straight.

She kept her eyes clenched shut, but when Florence spoke again, she noticed that the redhead’s voice was right in her ear. Now that I’m up here, I guess we’re the same height… thought Isa, grinning uncontrollably.

“Okay, keep your hands here,” said Florence, releasing Isa’s hands to grasp her waist firmly. “Now open your eyes.”

Isa’s round eyes fluttered open, and she gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. She was flying.

“Florence, I feel like… I’m flying.”

She felt Florence giggle a little behind her, and her heart skipped a beat.

Flo then reached out and took both of Isa’s hands in her own, leaving their arms outstretched, intermittently intertwining their fingers and caressing her companion’s palms.

“Something happened when I met you.”

Florence’s lips were almost touching Isa’s ear, and she felt her lip twitch at the near contact.

“W-what?”

“Well…” Florence dragged her hands along Isa’s arms until she reached her torso and then wrapped them snuggly around Isa’s stomach, her chin coming to rest on the blonde’s shoulder.

“A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes…”

She was singing softly. Isa felt her eyes drift shut slowly at the sound. She couldn’t think.

“I screamed aloud as it tore through them… and now it’s left me blind.”

Isa leaned her head so that it was resting against Florence’s. Florence moved then, her lips gracing Isa’s temple.

“But I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map…”

She was walking the fingers of her right hand gently, lightly, tenderly up Isa’s abdomen now, toward her chest.

“I knew that somehow I could find my way back…”

Finally, her hand found its destination, coming to rest over Isa’s heart. She moved the light fabric of her dress aside slightly, so that she could feel Isa’s skin beneath her palm. Isa let out a slight moan at the contact.

“Then I heard your heart beating… You were in the darkness too…”

Florence slowed down then, pausing. Isa’s eyes blinked open slowly, and she turned so that she could see Florence’s face, so close to hers. Florence reached up, moving her hand from Isa’s heart to her jaw line, tracing it gently with her fingertips.

“So I stayed…”

Foreheads touching.

“In the darkness…”

Noses brushing.

“With you…”

Eyes closing. Breath mingling. Lips crashing together.

The kiss began so gentle, but it wasn’t long before Isa’s feet were back on the deck, their arms wrapped around each other, each woman clinging desperately to the one person that made them feel whole.


	9. Your Songs Remind Me of Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella takes Florence back to her stateroom while Malcolm is away. She has a small request.

“Good God…” Florence’s melodic voice echoed in the stateroom as she turned around slowly, taking it all in. The paintings on the walls, the shiny golden brass accents on the dark, polished wood, the deep maroon rug, the velvet couch.

She pulled off her cap, having put it on to be less conspicuous while walking with Isabella to her stateroom, and shook free her red hair.

“You like it?” chimed Isabella, a smile spreading across her face as she flipped through various pieces of paper on a nearby desk. She then opened a few drawers, fishing through pencils and documents, a small hand reaching up to tuck back a blonde strand behind her ear as she searched.

“It’s beautiful. What are you looking for?” asked Florence, tossing her jacket into a corner and spreading out on the long couch, one of her slender hands pulling a cigarette from her front shirt pocket.

“Oh,” muttered Isabella, biting her lip, a sparkle in her eye, “You’ll see.”

“Are you sure he won’t be back any time soon?” the redhead replied, the flick of her lighter sparking a small flame at the end of her smoke, her eyebrows tilting upwards and coming together in a slight look of concern.

“I’m sure. He’s already gone to dinner, and dinner hasn’t even quite started yet, and after that, he’ll be heading to the smoking room, and—” Isabella stopped suddenly, a pad of paper in her hand and a pencil tucked behind her ear, as she straightened, her eyes falling on Florence.

Her limbs were draped over the couch, her legs spread out in front of her, one leg lying on the cushion. She was too tall to comfortably rest on it. The top three buttons of her white shirt were unclasped, and a stretch of smooth, milky white skin was visible. Isabella swallowed audibly, a blush creeping onto her face.

Florence seemed to notice her sudden stillness then, and she turned to look at her, amusement dancing in her green eyes. Her cigarette was perched delicately between her long fingers, and with her free hand, she toyed with a few strands of her long mane. Her pouty bottom lip stretched as she smiled then, dimples indenting her cheeks just below her defined cheekbones. “What?” she asked, softly.

“N-nothing…” murmured Isabella, her eyes glazed over. She felt like she was in a dream. Florence was mesmerizing. Everything she did was indescribably beautiful. How have I lived my whole life not knowing you? she thought.

But they knew each other now.

With a surge of confidence, she sauntered over to her companion, dropping the pencil and paper lightly to the floor. She climbed gently onto the couch, perching on the space of cushion just between Florence’s legs. She reached for the cigarette, bringing it to her own lips and inhaling deeply. Then she blew a dense cloud of smoke into Florence’s face, burying her free hand in the girl’s silky red hair. Florence sighed then, her eyes drifting closed before surging forward and taking Isa’s face in both her hands, their lips meeting intimately. In a matter of moments, they were breathless, and Florence’s hands roamed her back urgently as she moved her lips to Isabella’s neck. The kisses were gentle, and the urgency was subtle. But it was there. Isa sighed and stroked her companion’s hair, the back of her neck.

“Florence?” whispered Isabella, her eyes half-closed.

“Mmm?” moaned Florence, still planting delicate kisses over Isa’s neck.

“I want us to do something.”

“Me too…” said Florence, and Isabella felt rather than saw her smile.

Isa laughed, tugging lightly at Florence’s hair.

“No, I mean… Look at me.”

Florence relented then, pulling back, reaching up to finger a strand of Isa’s blonde hair.

Their eyes were making love as they stared at each other, and Isabella almost forgot what she had been thinking about.

But then she reached up and cupped Florence’s face in her hands, her thumb gracing the corner of the redhead’s pink lips.

“Florence… will you write a song with me?”

Florence paused then, her face unreadable. Then she laughed slightly, and Isa was almost sure she could make out tears in the redhead’s eyes.

The girl leaned forward, her eyes roaming Isabella’s face, and she covered Isa’s hand with her own, interlacing their fingers. “I thought you’d never ask.”


	10. ... So You Better Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa and Flo write a song together.

“That’s it!” exclaimed Florence. She leapt up from the couch and bounded over to the far wall, almost falling as she became inadvertently entangled in her own long limbs.

“What?” inquired Isa, the corners of her lips twitching upward in amusement as she propped herself up onto her elbows. She was lying on her stomach in front of the couch, a pencil and paper resting beside her on the carpet.

The pair had come up with a fairly solid chorus for the song. Florence had been toying around with the phrase, “the dog days are over,” for a few weeks, but she hadn’t really taken the time to expand upon the idea. Until now, that is.

They had been trying to work out the verses for quite a while now. Florence’s sudden outburst, Isa thought, was adorable. The redhead’s pale face lit up, her lips stretching into a grin as she bounced up and down, motioning frantically to a painting on the wall. It was a still life work which pictured a train emerging from a tunnel in the midst of a cloudy, grassy landscape.

“That’s it! A train!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands suddenly, not unlike a child in a candy store.

Isa giggled and sat up, crawling over in her companion’s direction. “Be more specific, love. I’m still not following…”

“Happiness hit her… like a… like a train on a track!”

Isa’s heartbeat quickened slightly, and she began writing the lyrics on one of the sheets of paper. She loved the thrill of songwriting. It had been ages since she had experienced it, and she had never collaborated with anyone before. It was a magical experience.

~

“I can’t believe we wrote a song together…” Isa murmured against Flo’s neck. She was curled up into Flo’s side as they rested on the couch. The redhead was looking at the finished lyrics which were printed on a yellowing piece of paper.

“I know,” said Florence, kissing the top of Isa’s head. “That was amazing. I’ve only ever written with Rob. It’s nice to do it with a girl…”

They paused then, glancing at each other, and laughed nervously in the quiet room.

“You know what I mean,” exclaimed Florence, running a trembling hand through her red hair, batting her fringe away from her eyes.  
“Of course,” whispered Isa, a sneaky smile threatening to appear on her lips.

But then Isabella’s eyes caught sight of the clock in the corner, just behind Florence. She gasped, her heart quickening. “Oh my God…”

Florence’s green eyes widened, and she sat up straighter, turning around. “What?!”

“We’ve been here for almost an hour and a half! Malcolm could be here any minute!”

“Fuck…” muttered Florence, scrambling to her feet and stumbling over to collect her jacket and tie from the floor by Malcolm’s desk. Her eyes were getting misty. “Okay, just… I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” asked Isa, approaching Florence, turning her around gently to face her. The redhead was avoiding her gaze.

“I’ll leave,” said Florence, her eyes on the ground.

Isabella tilted the redhead’s chin up so that their eyes met. “I’m going with you. I choose you. Remember?”

“But how—” started Florence, her eyes lighting up, searching Isa’s face, but the blonde cut her off with a kiss.

They held each other there for a moment, before Isa pulled back. “Leave it to me, okay? Just grab your stuff. And the song!”

Florence nodded, and Isabella grabbed a stray piece of paper and a pen. She went over to Malcolm’s desk and wrote: “The dog days are over.” Then she took off her wedding ring and set it atop the note.

For the first time in years, she was in control. She was finally free. And it was all because of Florence.

But suddenly, Isa felt her heart stop. Someone was unlocking the door.


	11. Love and Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence and Isabella are forced to run, which leads them to an unexpected place where they make a surprising discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I updated! Don't worry, the 12th chapter is already halfway written, so it won't be long before I update again. Hope you enjoy. xx

 

Isabella and Florence finally stopped running.

 

Florence panted as she leaned against the wall, chimes of laughter escaping her lips, and Isabella ran a hand through her hair, her other hand on her hip, as she caught her breath, smiling, her eyes fixed on her companion.

 

_God, you’re beautiful, s_ he thought. She didn’t understand how either of them could be so calm in a situation like this. They had come ridiculously close to being caught.

 

When Isa had heard the door being unlocked, she grabbed Florence and pulled her out onto the balcony, shutting the curtains just before the door opened. It was Winston, and he had gone straight for the bedroom, sure that he would find the pair there. But they had seized the chance to make a run for it, and they were halfway down the hallway before they saw his enormous bald head poking out from the around the door frame.

 

He had lumbered after them, but they kept running, dashing around various corners to try and make the chase more difficult. Florence was leading the way, her long legs making strides that Isabella found almost impossible to match. But Florence pulled her along, and she felt invincible.

 

At one point, they passed an open door, and Florence pushed them into it, shutting it and locking it behind them. Inside they found a ladder going down to the boilers, and Isabella followed Florence down it, ignoring the small voice in her head that was questioning such a move.

 

They kept running then, Isabella’s dress flowing behind her. They ignored the calls of the engine workers, warning them not to be down there. Finally, they came to another door, and they opened it, darting into the passage.

 

They were standing in a small corridor now, and it was finally quiet.

 

“Oh my God,” said Isabella, laughing, “That was close.”

 

She had moved close to Florence now, placing her hands gently upon the redhead’s hips. Florence was resting against the wall, and she brushed a few strands of blonde hair from Isabella’s eyes.

 

“Yes, it was,” she replied, still catching her breath. She turned to look to her left, and it was only then that they noticed where they were.

 

“This must be storage…” said Isabella, taking Florence’s hand, walking into the enormous area that was overrun with various trunks, vehicles, and crates.

 

“This is the lowest part of the ship,” said Florence, tilting her head back to look at the high ceiling.

 

They were both sweating a great deal from running, but the ventilation below deck was poor at best, so it only seemed to be getting hotter.

 

Isabella watched as Florence took off her jacket, draping it on a nearby box. She then rolled up her shirt sleeves and kicked off her shoes. The top buttons of her shirt were still unbuttoned from earlier. Isabella swallowed audibly, and Florence caught her staring.

 

“It’s awfully warm in here,” murmured Florence, approaching Isabella until they were only a couple of inches apart. Isabella felt as though she might faint.

 

It was dizzying, being with Florence. She could taste her breath on her lips, and it was making her skin tingle.

 

“Y-yes, it is,” she finally managed, biting her lip.

 

They were moving closer, their foreheads almost touching, when something behind Florence caught Isabella’s eye.

 

“It’s a piano!” she gasped, her eyes widening, as she smiled uncontrollably.

 

Florence spun around then, just in time to see the blonde skipping in the direction of the large, black piano, its shiny surface glinting in the dim light.

 

By the time Florence reached her, Isabella was already playing chords. She let her head fall back then, closing her eyes, her lips still smiling.

 

“Ah, it feels so good to play,” she said, leaning forward again over the keys, finding different combinations, patterns. “It’s been too long.”

 

“You’re very good,” said Florence, her hands coming to rest on Isabella’s shoulders, squeezing them slightly. The gesture made Isabella shiver, shooting electricity through her body.

 

Intimacy with Malcolm had been forced for years, and even then, it had never been thrilling. It had never made her feel alive… not like this. She had never felt _this_.

 

Her breath escaped in a sudden sigh, and her hands paused on the keys. She blinked slowly, reaching up to play with Florence’s long fingers.

 

“Flo, I’ve never… I’ve never been with a girl.”

 

Although only Florence’s hands were touching her, Isabella sensed it as her companion stiffened. This worried her, and she suddenly wondered why she would blurt out something like that.

 

“H-h-have _you_?” she added then, trying to rectify the situation but only seeming to make it worse. She felt her face reddening horribly, and she felt so embarrassed that she wanted to disappear under the piano. She already knew the answer. _What a stupid fucking question…_ she thought. _Nice try at foreplay, Isabella. You’ve done it again._

 

After a few seconds of heavy silence, Florence spoke, her voice soft and gentle.

 

“Isabella. Look at me.”

 

She spun Isa around slowly on the bench and knelt before her so that they were eye level, a gesture that Isa found breathtakingly endearing.

 

She took Isa’s hands in her own, stroking them gently, her green eyes shining.

 

“My life didn’t start until I met you,” she said, and the words made Isa’s bottom lip tremble.

 

Florence leaned forward so that both her arms rested on the seat of the piano bench, on either side of Isa’s hips. At this angle, Isa was actually looking down at Flo, a position she wanted to take advantage of. She reached out and took Flo’s face in her hands, pulling her into a kiss. It was extremely soft, tender.

 

“God, I love you,” whispered Isa, her heartbeat quickening.

 

“I love you too,” Flo responded, their foreheads still together.

 

Isabella was feeling bolder by the minute, and she finally pushed all of her shyness away as she managed to say, “I want you.”

 

She was sure she saw Florence’s eyes darken at her words, but before she could respond, Isa added, “I want… to _feel_ you.”

 

She moved her hand from Florence’s face, letting it slide along her jaw line, down her neck, before finally coming to rest on her chest, in the space of exposed skin where her shirt was open. Isabella could feel Florence’s heart racing.

 

“M-me too,” managed Florence, her eyes half-closed, and she captured Isa’s lips.

 

 


	12. The Undone and the Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence and Isabella finally sleep together. Malcolm finds Isabella's note and ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel kind of stupid because I don't know if I ever even clarified who Winston is? He's Malcolm's servant/bodyguard guy. He spied on Isabella the night of the dinner, and that's how Malcolm knew about her going below deck. (just like the movie, heh) I mean I know that's probably self-explanatory if you know the story, but I still feel dumb that I didn't make that clear before. Anyway. xx

It was a tangle of limbs and clothing, both of them scrambling to get closer to the other. The backs of Isabella’s legs hit the piano keys as Florence lifted her up onto the closed lid. Every once in a while someone’s knee or heel would hit a key, and the notes seemed to harmonize with their moans.

 

Florence’s hands and lips were everywhere, and Isabella felt like she was in some vivid dream where there were no rules, just raw emotions.

 

When they each came, which didn’t take very long, they clutched at each other desperately. Their moans seemed to echo off the walls, and soon the only sounds that could be heard were their tired, content breaths.

 

A short while later, Florence and Isabella were sprawled across the hard top of the black piano, facing each other, still panting softly, and topless, covered only by the redhead’s discarded shirt and jacket. Isabella felt like she had just been born, delivered from some terrible nightmare and now finally awake for the first time. Everything seemed rich, and even the air seemed thick and heavy with their love.

 

The blonde reached over and brushed back the fringe of her companion, whose lids were still half-closed in a mixture of exhaustion and ecstasy.

 

“How do you feel?” asked Isabella, huskily.

 

“I feel… incredible,” sighed Florence.

 

Isabella let her eyes wander over Florence’s body again, her heart still racing. “God, your skin…” she said.

 

“What?” murmured Florence.

 

Isabella ran a hand across Florence’s chest. “It’s beautiful,” she said, moving her hand shakily over Florence’s breasts.

 

Isabella heard (and felt) her sharp intake of breath and bit back a grin.

 

She reached up and placed her hand firmly over Isabella’s, holding her there. Her eyes drifted shut as she sighed contentedly. “You’re so… warm.”

 

“Flo, I’m pretty sure it’s just _really_ hot down here…” laughed Isabella.

 

“No, I… I mean I noticed it when I first met you. Your warmth…” she said, looking at the blonde suddenly, propping herself up on one elbow. Her red hair cascaded across her chest as she leaned over to trace Isabella’s lower lip with her finger. Those somber eyes were staring right through her again, and Isabella knew she meant what she said. “Your very being radiates it… you’re such a bright light.”

 

Isabella was breathless at her words, so she just stayed silent for a moment, drinking in her features and basking in her voice. Even glancing at Florence was an experience. So Isabella felt like she was on the moon.

 

Florence watched her for a moment, a smile spreading slowly across her face. Then there was that laugh. “Someone so warm shouldn’t have a name like ‘Winters.’”

 

Isabella laughed then too. “I think you’re right.” And then she pulled Florence down to her lips again.

 

-

 

Malcolm’s hands shook as he read the note, his face turning an angry red. He crumpled it into a ball in his fist and threw it across the room, breathing heavily.

 

“Winston!” he yelled, grabbing the massive wedding ring from the table and bringing it close to his face, eyeing it with fury.

 

Winston shuffled into the room. “Sir?”

 

“Find them. I don’t care what you have to do. If you lose them _again_ , then _keep looking_ this time. I don’t want to see you again until that bitch is locked up. And bring me back my wife!”

 

Winston nodded curtly, taking the ring and putting it in his pocket before leaving the stateroom, intent on fulfilling Malcolm’s wishes.

 

 


	13. Cosmic Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence and Isabella share a moment on deck when something unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part of writing this story has been the tense and POV. I've changed it several times, so this chapter is different. It's in present tense from Isa's POV. I just felt like that's what worked best.

 

"God, it's such a beautiful night. Look at those stars!"  
  


She's twirling around on deck, her head tilted back, a huge smile on her face. I'm perched on a nearby bench, laughing softly into the night.

  
"Yes," I add. "Beautiful." But my eyes are on Florence.

  
"Just look," she insists, seizing my hand, tugging until I finally consent. I follow her to the center of the deck, and we just look at the night sky.

  
Florence sighs, her wide green eyes searching the heavens, and her arms go around me gently, holding me to her. I feel such a strong surge of contentment that I'm almost overwhelmed by it.

  
"I could have stayed down there with you forever," I say. I wish I could have. I want nothing more than to stay wrapped up in her arms. Florence looks down at me, her fingers moving under my chin, tilting my face upwards so our eyes can meet.

  
"I know, darling." Her words are soft, comforting.

  
"When I saw you at dinner, saw you for _you_ , I... I fell in love. That was it."

  
A blush paints Florence's cheeks then, and I'm sure I can see her green eyes holding back tears. Her lips part, as if to speak, but I don't give her a chance. I've just remembered...

  
"Hang on, I've been meaning to ask you. What were you even doing there?"

  
She grins then, looking past me, out into the night for a moment. "Well, I.. I was going to tell you. But then, I just.. I don't know. It's-it's really exciting. Mairead, erm... Mairead is in the music business, and she wants to be my manager when we get to the states."

  
I suddenly lose my breath, pride swelling in my chest, and I throw my arms tighter around her. "Oh my God, Flo! That's amazing! That's-that's so great! Why didn't you tell me?"

  
"I was going to, it's just..."

  
"Just what?"

  
"It would be even better if you were going to be doing it with me."

  
I can hear my heart thumping in my chest.

  
"Oh, Florence, we... together? Well.."

  
"Come on, Isa, we write so well together, and you could be my piano player." She winks then, her hands running over my hair.

  
I'm drowning again in Florence's green eyes. That's all it takes. I realize in that moment that I would like nothing more than to make music with Florence for the rest of my life.

  
"Yes."

  
Her eyes are roaming over my face, in a mixture of hope and disbelief. "W-wait, you mean-"  
 

"Yes, I'll be your piano player. When the ship docks, I'm leaving Malcolm. I'm going with you. I want to write with you. I want to make you music with you. I want to _be_ with you."

  
She grabs my face in her hands, putting our foreheads together for a moment before kissing me deeply. After a few moments, we just stand in a long embrace, and my head is on her chest. Her heart is still racing, and I smile.

  
But that's when everything changes.

  
A sudden shudder and jarring beneath our feet brings us out of our daze.

  
"What's-what's happening?" I hear myself say.

  
"I don't-" she starts, but then we catch sight of it. The iceberg.

  
It's huge, and the ship's hit it. More than hit it. The ship is scraping against it, and bits are breaking off and falling onto the deck. She grabs me and pulls me back in a rush, lifting me off my feet for a brief second in her haste, as a few large chunks of ice slide in our direction.

  
When it stops, we just stand there, clutching at each other, breathless, staring at the gigantic thing as the ship finally moves past it.

  
"Holy shit," she says, finally breaking the silence.

  
"Yeah. Are you okay?" I say.

  
"I.. Yes, I'm fine. Are you?"

  
I nod blankly, my mouth agape. A thousand thoughts begin running through my mind.

  
She takes a tentative step towards the railing, and I tug on her wrist. "Wait, Flo.."

  
"I just want to look," she says, walking over, sidestepping pieces of ice. I follow reluctantly.

  
She leans far over, trying to see where we hit. "I can't see anything. It's too high up." Her voice is fairly light as she moves back towards me, enveloping me in her arms again.

Her face changes as she watches me. I know she can see the worry in my eyes.

  
"Iz, we're fine. This is a sturdy ship, I mean.. it's called Titanic, for God's sake." She laughs slightly, but then her eyes dart past me, behind me, and I know she's nervous too.

  
A few minutes pass, and we go back to sit on a bench, talking. But then I see a couple of men in uniforms pass by.

  
"The storage holdings are already underwater, and it's moving to steerage..." I hear one of them say, but the rest is unintelligible, as they're speaking so quietly and moving so fast. 

My mouth feels suddenly dry, and I'm aware of how chilly it is. I look at Florence's face then, and her lips are parted, her face oddly pale. I know she heard them too.

  
"I think... I think this might be.. bad." She murmurs, blinking quickly.

  
I've never seen her afraid before. She looks so strangely vulnerable, and I feel suddenly protective of her. I reach up and tuck some of her red hair behind her ear.

 

"It might be. But we'll be all right, Florence." I try to sound convincing, but I'm painfully aware of how shaky my voice is. She nods, her eyes dropping to the ground.

 

"I, erm... I think maybe I should tell Rob. He needs to know."

 

"Yes, I think you should. I'll meet you back here in an hour or so?"

 

"Okay, but.. wait, what are you going to do?"

 

I straighten my back a little, trying to look tough. "Well, I think I'll just go tell Malcolm it's over." I've barely gotten the words out when she jumps in.

 

"Oh, no, you can't. Not without me. He could hurt you. I need to be with you."

 

"I'm not afraid of him anymore," I insist, but she places her hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently, concern in her eyes.

 

"I know. But Isabella, trust me on this. Don't go alone. Look, it's not going to take me an hour to tell Rob about this. Why don't I just go and get him, and he can come with us to tell Malcolm? We'll at least have some backup that way."

 

I think for a moment before nodding a couple of times. "I.. I suppose."

 

She kisses me on the forehead then. "Thank you. Now I don't want you getting cold up here. Why don't you wait for us by the grand staircase? I'll just run and get him, and we'll come right up and meet you there."

 

"Okay. Just hurry."

 

She gives my hand a little squeeze before taking off in the direction of the lower levels.

 

 

 


End file.
